Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [19]
I glanced over at him and the look of pure pleasure on his face. “You may not believe it, but you’re missing the squadron a whole bunch.”
He winked at me. “I’m missing flying, certainly, but dealing with you fighter jocks and your egos was wearing thin.”
“Yeah, that’s all space-dust and plasma balls. Now you deal with politicians and their egos.” I laughed aloud. “You just moved up to really hard targets.”
Wedge frowned for a second. “More truth to that than I want to think about, my friend.”
We both fell silent as the Imperial Palace came into view. An upwelling of towers and massive edifices, it appeared to be the ultimate monument to power. Even so, the various parts had been sculpted with such exquisite attention to detail that taken in isolation, portions of it appeared positively delicate. What looked like thin membranes and gossamer tracery from far off became far more solid upon approach, but proximity revealed yet more levels of detail, complete with winking lights and bright colors splashed about. Complex seemed to be the only word that could fully encompass the palace.
The New Republic government had tried to abandon the name Imperial Palace, and various campaigns to call it things like Republic House or simply the Capitol had been launched down through the years. None of them succeeded because none of them seemed appropriate. It was as if the building had grown up to fill every nuance suggested by the title Imperial Palace and to call it anything less just felt wrong.
Wedge gave the proper codes for us to land at the palace, then led me off through a maze of corridors to the Jedi Master’s home. I would have been utterly lost in the tangle of hallways, and only had a vague sense of our moving across the tower and up, but never really knew how far we had gone. Part of this was because the ornate designs and vibrant colors used to decorate this palace tower almost overwhelmed me. The use of Imperial Scarlet predominated, with gold, silver, blue and green accenting various features. Just when the clash of color would become too much, we’d walk past an alcove or a wall panel that housed artwork from one of the myriad planets in the galaxy. I found the alcoves to be a sanctuary of sorts and greatly anticipated them, moving from one to the next as I might move from system to system on a long flight.
What struck me as odd about my reaction was that this was not my first trip to the Imperial Palace. I couldn’t be certain I’d not been in this very tower before, but the fact was that quite a bit of the palace was garishly decorated. Part of me speculated that the reason for the violent use of color and ornamentation was because when the Emperor lived here, he so sucked life out of everyone, that if something was not made brutally and abundantly clear to them, they would not notice it.
The palace had not changed since my previous visits, but I had always come here before with my wife. Mirax’s appreciation for art, her knowledge of the various pieces, their styles, likely origins and even market value, had provided me with a context in which to place everything. I focused upon those things that interested her and built upon a foundation my mother had given me on our visits to the museums on Corellia. Through Mirax I had been able to filter out all the irritating things, but without her the colors assaulted me.
Master Skywalker’s chambers saved me. The door opened before we got to it and Wedge did not hesitate in plunging into the dimly lit room. The low lights quelled the riot of color. While the chambers still had the Imperial styling, there was no excess of furnishing to clog them with angles, plush fabrics and dangling fringes. The shelves that had been built into the walls of every